


A Trip to the Woodshed

by badgirlcarly



Category: Thunderheart (1992)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Domestic Discipline, M/M, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2020-12-17 07:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21050756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgirlcarly/pseuds/badgirlcarly
Summary: Ray gets taken out to the woodshed.





	A Trip to the Woodshed

  
Ray had never though much about the woodshed before. It was where they kept the firewood for the squat, black stove in the main room of Walter’s cabin, and mostly when the shed crossed his mind, it was regarding the ache in his back and forearms that chopping the wood caused. 

That was until Ray, in a fit of his quick, white-hot temper, put a hole in the kitchen wall with his fist after getting a starched “Fuck you” from the FBI office in Rapid. Of course, they’d dressed it up pretty, made it sound all official-like, but it was still meant that they’d be another winter without heaters for the department cruisers because, “the money just wasn’t there.”

Putting the hole in the wall, it turned out, did nothing to squash Ray’s anger. But it did ignite Crow Horse’s. Which is how Ray found himself being dragged by the collar to the woodshed.

“Had enough of your temper, man,” Crow Horse said, pushing Ray against the woodshed’s side hard enough to rattle the breath from him. Ray wasn’t even thinking of apologizing, rage still thrumming in his veins, but then Crow Horse took his knife from the sheath on his belt, the wicked blade shining in the low autumn light, and Ray felt a little sick. 

“Don’t—” he said weakly.

Crow Horse frowned. “I ain’t gonna cut you, don’t be stupid.” He handed the knife to Ray, hilt first. “You’re gonna take this, and you’re gonna cut you a switch.”

Ray’s stomach dropped. Walter had never whipped him with a switch before. 

“I don’t know how,” Ray said meekly. 

“You’re gonna go out and find you a little tree branch—something whippy and green, nothing brown and hard—and cut it down off the tree. Then you’re gonna clean it—cut off all the leaves and little nubs, and you’re gonna do it all right quick or I’m gonna give you the belt after.”

Ray swallowed, thickly. He took the knife and started away from the woodshed, off into the thicket of trees behind it. _Maybe I could run away,_ he thought. He was faster than Crow Horse, and could run longer; maybe he could just disappear into the forest.

_You’d get lonely for him,_ a sensible voice in his head said. _Take your medicine._

Blood rushed to Ray’s cheeks as he selected a branch from a small sapling. He tested it for pliancy; it bent in his hand. Ray took Crow Horse’s knife and cut it from the tree, and then he began whittling off the leaves and shoots, thinking how light the switch was, how it couldn’t hurt that much, could it?

Ray and the switch walked back to where Crow Horse was waiting for them at the woodshed. Ray handed Crow Horse the knife first, and then the switch, his hand trembling.

They went inside the woodshed, Crow Horse with silent purpose and Ray following. Crow Horse nodded to a stack of wood about three feet high.

“Britches down, and bend over.”

Ray fumbled with the front of his jeans for a minute before baring himself, and then he bent over the stack of wood. This put his hindquarters up in the air, and he felt naked and open and embarrassed, almost enough to forget about the pain that was coming.

_I’m sorry,_ Ray thought. _I really don’t need a spanking; I’ll fix the wall._ But not one of those would have resulted in anything but a talking to and a harder whipping, so he kept his mouth shut.

Ray heard Crow Horse moving behind him, the gentle tap of his boots on the wood floor. Then a whistle, one Ray didn’t recognize until a white-hot stripe of pain was searing across his ass. Ray yelped, and jumped up, his hands scrabbling at his backside. 

Crow Horse’s gaze was serious, his thin mouth set tight into a harsh line. “Bend over,” he said.

Ray knew better than to argue; he didn’t want the belt after. He got back into position, holding on hard to one of the logs to keep himself still.

The whistle again, and this time Ray flinched as soon as it hit his ears; seconds later, another whip-thin burn across his backside. Another whistle—another painful blow, this one to his upper thighs. It felt more like being branded than being spanked. Ray heard himself howl as Crow Horse began to crisscross the lashes over each other, opening up a sickeningly raw pain that was worse than the fire. 

Ray’s thighs were trembling, like the beating might break him apart, and sweat dripped down into his eyes.

“Stop,” he whimpered. “Walter, I’m sorry, please stop—”

Silence. Then the gentle cadence of Walter’s boots on the floor; Ray felt Walter coming behind him and stiffened. A rough hand cupped his raw backside and Ray moaned; it was like pouring salt in a wound.

“That hurt, didn’t it?” Crow Horse asked.

“Yes,” Ray sniffled.

“Better mind your temper then, oughtn’t you?”

“Yes,” Ray said miserably.

“Stand up.”

Ray stood, and turned to face Walter, who slid his arms around him, his hands traveling slowly up Ray’s spine, rubbing his back. Ray’s anger had dissipated, beaten out of him completely, and he rested his head against Walter’s shoulder and closed his eyes.  



End file.
